you're worlds away
by teeceecee
Summary: "I don't want the memory of you to fade, and the thought of losing the last piece of you makes my heart ache but not quite break." One-shot.


**Hey, guys! So I had this really angsty one-shot plan and what better way to end the week than with feels, amirite?**

**Warning: Angst. Lots of it. Tissues are recommended.**

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><p><em><strong>I'm feeling further, feeling further from you every day, You're in the stars, in the stars, yeah, you're worlds away...<strong>_

_**-Hold On; The Madison Letter**_

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><p>He exhaled, his breath rattling in his chest like a rusted chain. Outside, the world was slowly being bleached of color, turning into that sickening shade of blue that signified another day had passed and night was about to fall. Hiro hated that color. If he had a machine that could paint the skies, he would forever make it cotton candy pink or something much more masculine – like orange…it was masculine right? – and not that pathetic shade of in between black and blue.<p>

Black and blue. Like a bruise.

No, he promised himself that he would never build anything again. His inventions were the one that led to him in such a state, heart aching but not quite breaking, staring blankly and counting the number of cobwebs on the wall.

He resisted the urge to smack himself from allowing his thoughts to deviate.

The young boy's eyes traveled from the water stained ceiling to the far corner of the room, where the light barely touched.

Tadashi had always complained that he had gotten the wrong side of the room, and even if he didn't believe it, constantly teased that the _feng shui_ in his part of the room didn't fit, and that the darkness felt as if it were consuming him.

Hiro had laughed it off, claiming that his brother was becoming more jaded the more time he spent with Aunt Cass.

That seemed like _eons _ago.

Hiro wanted to get up and switch on the light so that his aunt didn't find him wallowing again. She had been discovering him increasingly in that state ever since the… he didn't have the heart to recall that incident. But he was just so _tired._

He was so tired of getting up every day without the very same familiar voice to greet him. He hated stumbling into the bathroom, only to find it unlocked and without an indignant presence. He missed the sound of the same voice belting out tunes in a warbling-like manner that often led him to tease the singer.

He missed everything about Tadashi. Even the annoying stuff.

He glanced again to the neat bed that Tadashi had insisted on making before the day of the showcase, to the cap that sat solemnly in the middle of it. For the first few weeks, Aunt Cass had asked nicely if he wanted to switch rooms and take hers while she slept downstairs on the couch. It was a sweet gesture but a change of scenery wasn't what he needed.

The young boy wanted his brother. He needed his protector and best friend back.

A lump formed in his throat and his vision blurred. There it goes again.

Him crying without even realizing it.

Hiro angrily swiped the tears away, the sudden burst of energy drawing him up from the bed and propelling him to switch on the lights.

There. Everything was better in the light.

As soon as the lightness in his chest came, it dissipated, bringing with it the constant weight that he carried around like a ball and chain.

He dragged his feet back to his bed, sitting on the surface, bouncing slightly from the impact. Now what?

He could read. But that would require energy.

He could go down for dinner. But that would mean socializing and he wasn't feeling talkative tonight. Actually, he wondered when had he ever felt like talking for these past few weeks?

He could work on his bots. The very thought made his heart clench and he decided that he had no intention to do anything.

And so he sat, watching the sky turned black. His stomach rumbled but the feeling of hunger was almost as foreign as the thought of doing all of the aforementioned activities.

He glanced again at the bed, how he had avoided that fixture of the room with a rigid discipline that he could feel crumbling this very second.

Maybe he could…

Hiro got up before he could think this through and made his way to Tadashi's part of the room. He took in the neat chaos that was his brother's space; books strewn on every inch of shelf available, the desk unorganized with last minute ideas that would never see the light of day and the bed creased slightly where Tadashi had missed smoothing it out in their rush to reach the showcase.

He sat down on the side of the bed hesitantly, as if expecting something or someone to stop him as the very act was sacrilegious to Tadashi's last memory. But nothing came, and for that, he was grateful.

He eyed the cap and took it in his hands, twirling the item idly. A pull in his chest called to him to draw the item closer to his face, to see if he could still have at least one more vestige of his brother.

Common sense and the fear of being found out made him stop.

He didn't know why, but the light instantly put him on defense, as if the whole world could judge his actions when he wasn't in the blanket of safety that was the darkness. Another spark in his chest.

Judgement be damned. He missed his brother and wanted nothing more to do with the world for tonight.

Ambling up again, he switched off the lights, the room being plunged into darkness once more.

He returned to Tadashi's bed and sat there, hat in his lap. Right here, he let the tears fall, dripping silently down his cheeks as he lifted up the cap. He pressed it almost tenderly to his cheek and inhaled slightly.

The tears came in full force now.

His brother's scent still lingered on the cap; the faint smell of his favorite woody shampoo and the smell of musk that could only be described as something completely and only Tadashi. Hiro thought of days when he had taken his brother's embraces for granted, going stiff in his arms or teasing Tadashi that he was being too sentimental even if he secretly loved his brother's warm hugs.

A tiny sob escaped his throat and Hiro clamped a hand to his mouth, trying to hold the torrent of emotions in. He laid on the bed, with the cap pressed beneath his cheek and thought of better times, letting the memories drift him to a happier place where he could temporarily escape the pain.

Strange, the happier place felt almost like his brother's arms.

~~O~~O~~

Cass hesitated outside her nephew's room, unsure of whether to walk up the last set of stairs. The light was switched off and she thought that Hiro either fell asleep or left himself in the dark.

Neither option was feasible for her and she silently braced herself to call him out for dinner. Because if she didn't, the boy would've let himself waste off, super genius on biological needs of the body or not.

She walked up, cautious of the creaking third step and squinted through the lack of light.

Huh, she noticed that Hiro's bed was empty.

The cafe owner walked in, as silent as possible as she searched for her nephew. She gulped as her eyes traveled to Tadashi's part of the room – the part where she had tried not to linger for too long – and to her surprise, she found Hiro crumpled in the middle of the bed.

She walked up to him and was stunned to find him fast asleep at eight in the night. Her look of confusion turned to one of compassion as she saw Tadashi's cap pressed tightly to his cheek.

For the first time in weeks, Cass saw her nephew smile, even if he was unconscious and it brought a swelling in her heart that was part happiness and sadness.

With a bittersweet smile, she ruffled his hair gently and walked back to the staircase, leaning against the banister for a moment.

"Goodnight, Hiro," she whispered and glanced at the picture of her other nephew hanging from the adjacent wall.

Tadashi was smiling in this, a huge wide smile that Hiro had captured candidly during an outing to a park. The light sloped over his sharp features that he had inherited from his father and accentuated the warm brown eyes he got from their mother, twinkling in their merriment. Her heart constricted and she touched the frame gently, gaze soft.

"Goodnight, Tadashi. We miss you."

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><p><strong>AN:Upfront and honest, I cried while writing this and listening to The Madison Letter's cover of Colbie Caillat's 'Hold On'. Not something I would want to admit but hey, angst takes _everybody_ prisoner to the feels. **

**Tell me what you think?**


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